Intro to Physics
by ficcychick
Summary: A "Five Times" story in which Jeff and Annie try to resist their sexual attraction to one another, sometimes only succeeding with "help" from others. Starting as T but probably changing to M over time. Idea from a prompt at the M/M LJ community.
1. A Ride Home

Disclaimer: Characters belong to the amazing Dan Harmon.

A Ride Home

"I don't know why you couldn't just walk home with Troy and Abed," Jeff said as he pulled his Lexus up to the curb outside the apartment Annie shared with the two boys.

"Jeff, we've been over this," Annie said, flipping her long brown hair back from her face, her lips set in an adorable little pout. Jeff wondered what if she still used bubble gum lip gloss as he lost himself in their shine, imagining them caressing his own perfect pink pucker. "I just couldn't handle another Inspector Spacetime marathon in Pavel's dorm room."

Annie crossed her arms across her chest. "Jeff, are you even listening to me?"

Jeff shook himself from his reverie long enough to mumble some kind of reply before pulling himself together. "What about public transportation? I know for a fact that there's a bus stop not three blocks from this very corner."

"You know I can't ride the bus anymore. Not since that time I freaked out because I thought those two guys were zombies and it turned out they just had bad colds. There's a picture of my face at the front of every city bus." She turned away from him. "Besides, it's not like you actually had anything else to do tonight…right?"

She braced herself for the answer, hoping she wouldn't have to hear that he'd met someone new, that he was on the trail of some new sexual conquest.

"Other than monitor the Internet for lingering copies of that video Dean Pelton uploaded and page through the new J. Crew catalog, I guess not," he admitted.

Jeff didn't know why he was being so honest with Annie lately, or rather, didn't want to admit why. He didn't want to let on that she made him feel things he had never felt before, like the desire to actually be a good person or the drive to care about issues that didn't immediately affect his life. He was starting to care about other people, and it was seriously shaking him up.

"So this is where you get off then," he said, his voice thick.

"You don't want to walk me up?" Annie asked, and immediately gave herself a mental kick. "I didn't mean for that to sound the way you think," she added before opening the door and quickly getting out of the car, swinging her bag up to her shoulder.

"I guess I could at least make sure you get home okay," Jeff said, much to her surprise. He got out of the Lexus and clicked the locks, though these days the car was much less apt to be stolen, as it looked as if it had already been to Hell and back. Walking around to Annie's side, he held out his arm. "Milady," he said, looking into her beautiful blue eyes from under his own lashes.

"Milord," she replied, a classic Annie smile playing upon her lips as her cheeks grew slightly pink.

Again Jeff didn't want to admit it, but he reveled in the pressure of her body against his, the feel of her arm wrapping gently around his own. This close to her body, he could smell her perfume, and it stirred him in places other than his nostrils.

On the other side of the pair, Annie's heart was doing flip-flops. She knew Jeff was just being nice and playing the gentleman like he always did for her, but she couldn't help but imagine them entwined together, his lips gently brushing her skin as she ran a hand slowly up his spine. Her cheeks reddened further as they approached the entrance to her building, and she took the opportunity to dig for her keys to hide this fact from Jeff.

She opened the door and turned to say goodbye, but Jeff was insistent that he should see her all the way to her apartment.

"What kind of escort would I be if I didn't go all the way?" he asked, flashing a cheeky grin.

"He didn't mean that like you think, Mrs. Schlossenberg," Annie said, and Jeff turned to see a gray-haired woman who resembled a slightly saggy pudding looking at them with shock written across her face.

"And so what if I had," Jeff said, suddenly defiant. "Annie's a grown woman." It was one of the few times he had allowed himself to admit it, and suddenly he realized that perhaps it wasn't one of the best.

"Just take me upstairs, Jeff," Annie muttered through gritted teeth, "before the rest of the neighborhood thinks I'm soliciting sexual favors from Gap models."

He followed her inside the building and up the stairs to her apartment, not being able to resist watching the way her ass moved as she climbed the steps, like two firm little piglets wriggling beneath a plaid blanket. He felt his groin twitch as they climbed the last few stairs, and his internal warning system went off. This couldn't be good.

Annie put her key into the lock and turned to Jeff. "Thanks for bringing me home tonight, Jeff, even if you did ruin my reputation among the "Murder, She Wrote" set."

"I do what I can, Annie," he said, and smiled as she turned the key to no avail.

"Something's wrong," she said, her brows knit together in adorable bewilderment. "I can't get the key to work."

"Let me try," Jeff said, and reached around her to try the key himself. Annie turned her body, her back against the door, and suddenly they were almost face-to-face, her breasts pressing against his chest. They could both feel the other's heart racing, and knew that this was something that couldn't be ignored.

"Jeff, I-" Annie began, but Jeff shook his head and leaned in for a kiss. Suddenly the door gave way and they fell into the apartment.

"Hey guys," Abed said. "We thought we heard voices in the hallway."

"What are you doing here?" Jeff asked, pulling himself off of Annie before his dignity suffered further injury that evening. "I thought you were having some nerd marathon at Pavel's."

"His TV went out so we moved the party here," Abed said, cocking his head. "Jeff, that looked remarkably like "The Lean," featured in the 1995 film "While You Were Sleeping" starring then-rising talent Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Abed, nor have I ever seen that movie. And I'm quite puzzled as to why you have."

"Research for the romantic comedy genre," Abed answered, taking Jeff's hand to help pull him from the floor before returning to the blanket fort-slash-TV room he shared with Troy.

As the "Inspector Spacetime" theme played in the background, Jeff held out his own hand to help Annie up from the floor. "Milady."

"Milord," she said, her voice having lost some of its buoyancy.

They both looked toward the blanket fort, sighed, and then Jeff reached out and patted Annie on the head as always.

"Have a good weekend, kiddo," he said, then made his exit.

For more than the first time, Annie wished she had never left Dildopolis.


	2. A Party at Hawthorne Manor

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Just as she did every morning before leaving her room, Annie Edison took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was letter perfect. Hair brushed, bangs neatly pulled back, check. "Natural" makeup with just a hint of lip gloss but not enough to make her look like she was promiscuous, check. Cute cardigan/skirt combo, check. Little Annie Adderall was now nothing more than a memory, a speed bump on the way to her future, and honestly, it may have been what she needed to set her on the right path.

She opened the door expecting to see Troy and Abed emerging from the blanket fort, but instead saw a note on the table.

"Annie,

Went to the store to get pop rocks, Mentos and Coke for Pierce's party. Don't worry about us, we'll see you there.

Woodsman Troy and B-Bed."

"Stuck in their own little world again," Annie said, crumpling the note in her fist. She had no idea where Pierce lived—Troy was her guide to the party, not to mention her bodyguard on the bus. She didn't want a repeat of last time. The police said that public masturbators were few and far between, but she had seen enough in her life to know that these deviants were more common than one might think.

Annie reached for her phone and wrestled with the decision of who to call. Britta's station wagon was being steam cleaned after her run-in with Cannabis Jesus the Racist Cannibal, and Shirley's car was too full of car seats and religious icons for another passenger. Of course, this left her with only one option: Jeff.

She and Jeff had been avoiding being alone together since the night he drove her home from school, and now she was nervous that he would be awkward if she called. However, Pierce was counting on them all to be there, and Annie was not the type to let a friend down, regardless of how crazy and bigoted they were.

After another moment to catch her breath, Annie dialed Jeff's number. It rang once, then music began playing. He would be the kind of guy to have the Superman theme as a ringback tone, she thought, and found herself humming along until he answered.

"What's up, kiddo?" he said, his voice as smooth as it ever was. "Looking for an escort?" he teased.

"Mrs. Schlossenberg isn't going to let me forget that one for a good long while," she said, and laughed. "It's funny you should mention it, though. Troy and Abed went ahead without me and I don't know how to get to Pierce's on my own. I was wondering if you might give me a ride there?"

There was a moment's hesitation, and Annie briefly thought he was going to refuse before he answered, "Sure thing. I'll be there to get you in ten minutes or less, and that's the Winger Guarantee."

"But Jeff, you live twenty minutes away—" Annie said before realizing she was speaking to dead air. He had already hung up. She shrugged her shoulders and put her phone in her bag. At least this gave her some more time to check her makeup and make sure she was wearing the perfect outfit. She walked back into her room and had just begun to put on another coat of lip gloss when the buzzer sounded.

She hurriedly made her way over to it and hit the intercom button. "Hello?"

"Your chariot awaits, milady." It was Jeff, and it had only been about two minutes.

"I'll be right down, milord," she said, puzzled by his quick appearance. Grabbing her bag, she locked the door behind her and practically galloped down the stairs. As she approached the building's entrance, she could see him through the windows and paused for a moment to take him in. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, casually staring off into the distance. For a moment she could almost forget that he was THE Jeff Winger and see him as what he was, a handsome, charmingly endearing man that she was glad to have in her life, someone she would never have met if they both hadn't had such checkered pasts. He turned toward the door and the moment, and his seeming vulnerability, was gone.

She smiled at him and pushed forward through the door. "That was a pretty fast drive, even for a Lexus."

"Oh, I just happened to be in the neighborhood, waiting to see if there were any damsels in distress. Imagine my luck in getting that phone call." He took her arm and led her toward the car. "Your carriage, milady."

Annie didn't want to admit it, but her heart did a flip when he spoke. "How kind of you, milord."

She sank into the seat and watched him walk around to the other side of the car. His body moved like that of a jungle cat: lithe, lean and graceful almost to the point of appearing choreographed. He got into the car with ease, and she could see how the seat molded to his body, as if it had been made specifically for him.

"I hope you don't mind, I have to run by the apartment and get changed before we go," he said as he started the car.

"Nope, don't mind at all," she said, hoping she didn't sound too eager, but thinking the sharp intake of air before she spoke had given her away.

The ride was pleasant—Jeff popped a CD in and they sang along to cheesy 90s pop hits as the streets passed. It seemed that since his afternoon of karaoke with Dean Pelton that he couldn't get enough of that music. They were outside of Jeff's apartment before she knew it.

"Do you want to come inside or do you want to wait here?" he asked her as he put the car in park.

"Well, I've never seen your bedroom and you've seen mine so it's only fair," she replied, then her eyes grew big as she realized exactly what she had said.

Jeff laughed. "So it is," he said, and turned the car off. "Come on, then."

The walk to his apartment was short, but the building was nice. She could see why Chang had wanted to stay.

"It's not much," Jeff said as he unlocked the door, "but it's becoming home."

The interior was just as she had imagined his apartment would be. It was impeccably clean and well-organized, and all of his things spoke to the kind of image he projected. "It's very…you," she said, and smiled.

Jeff laughed and gestured to the couch. "You sit tight and I will be right back." She nodded and did as she was told. However, once she was there, she could only wonder how many other women had sat on this couch. Once she was over that, there was the thought of Chang. He had lived here, slept on this couch. His balls had probably touched these very cushions. Suddenly Annie felt very sick to her stomach.

She leaped from the testicle-tainted cushions and ran down the hall in search of a bathroom. Reaching for the first door she saw, Annie threw it open. There, instead of a toilet and a sink, stood Jeff Winger in only a tiny pair of blue briefs. Annie gasped and turned her head away, covering her mouth.

"Jeff, I'm so so sorry! I was looking for the bathroom, I—" she couldn't help herself, and turned to look again. He was impeccable, his muscles sculpted as if by an Italian master. He was just as she had imagined night after night in the solitude of her room.

Jeff didn't speak, but instead ran his eyes over her own body in a way that made her feel as if she were in a similar state of undress. He was across the room in two steps, and pressed her body against the wall with his, with no space between them.

"Jeff—" she began, but he silenced her with a kiss. It was plaintive at first, but quickly grew hungry as he crushed her lips under his. She felt his tongue enter her mouth, probing, searching even as his hands did the same across her body. He grew hard against her, and Annie felt a sudden tingling at her core and knew it was much more than just butterflies. She spread her legs slightly and Jeff's hand reached under her skirt and caressed the soft mound beneath. Annie moaned beneath his touch and knew that right then, right there, she was willing to do anything that Jeff Winger asked of her. Then suddenly it was over.

"I can't Annie, not like this. It's not right." His voice was ragged, as if he were tearing it from the very depths of his being. She could feel his heart beating just as fast as her own, could hear his breath heavy in her ears.

"Jeff…" she said, but he backed away from her.

"The bathroom's on the other side of the hall. Go straighten yourself up. I'll be out in a minute. The others will wonder where we are."

"Since when do you care about the others, Jeff?" she asked, but did as she was told, just like the child she knew he would always see her as. In the bathroom, she took a moment to cry, but not too long. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

When he appeared in the living room, he looked as immaculate as ever, but there was a distance in his eyes that hadn't been there before. She followed him to the car in silence and they drove to Pierce's in record time, the music a reminder of what the evening could have been.

"Where have you two been?" Britta asked when they walked through the door. "Troy and Abed are already high on sugar, Shirley's led a round of "Kumbaya" and I'm seriously reconsidering my spiritual choices.

"Looks like they've been at a gay bar to me," Pierce said, laughing in that Clark Griswold manner he had.

Jeff and Annie looked at each other, then back at Pierce. "Nailed it," Jeff said, and the party was off and running.


End file.
